𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ғᴏʀᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

He dips his head, crushing his lips back onto mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, needing to feel as much of his body as I can. A low sound comes from his throat, as he slides his hands up my sides under my t-shirt. His thumb knowingly brushes over my tattoo, sending a shiver down my body.

It's two in the afternoon and he's already making me feel hot and heavy.

He leans forward, a hand splayed against my back, biting on my lip with his teeth. The blanket still rests on us, as if hiding us. When he leans me forward, his other hand is fisting my hair, angling my head in a way that allows him to veer his mouth off my lips and kiss down my neck.

I gasp at the feeling settling down low in my stomach.

"We need to discuss something," he says, looking at me then continuing his descent.

"And what's that?" I managed to say.

"How long are we keeping this a secret? That I'm fucking you."

Just?  I chase that thought away, before it can ruin me.

"You're fucking me? I don't think so," I shake my head, biting a smile away.

"I beg to differ after these nights," he says, rough.

"Keep on begging, maybe I'll change my mind," I smirk.

His lips twist in a smirk as if he won that one. "So what does sneaking around entail?"

Before I can answer he reclines the chair and I'm not ready for that, so I fall forward. He rolls his hips up into mine, grinding himself onto me sending me into a tizzy. I can feel how hard he is between my legs and it makes me throb.

"We're not going to be sneaking around," I tell him. "We're just going to be...quieter about it."

My top is off in a flash and my arms impulsively wrap around my chest.

His eyes darken. "I don't want you to be quiet. I want to hear every sound that leaves these lips," his thumb brushes down my lower lip, "whilst I fuck these."

He cups me through the dampening fabric. And I'm utterly speechless.

"This conversation seems to be going in a completely different direction," I say, very aware of how he's looking at me right now.

"Apologies," his hands circle my hips before sliding one hand down the front of my leggings and underwear. His thumb presses against my clit and my legs tremble. "You were saying?"

His seat is reclined at a 45 degree angle giving him a splendid view of me stumbling over my words because his hand is in my underwear. His hand doesn't move and it's fucking torturous. Then it does. He raises one cocky brow as he plunges a finger into me making me drop my head into his neck and cry his name.

"I..." my trail of thought gets lost.

He grins. "That's what I thought, baby."

I arch my back, moving to the rhythm of his hand. He fingers me in the cinema room, where I hope the maids are far from today. I grind against his hand hard, my thighs slick and wet. Oh my god, the best part of this was that I wasn't expecting this

Suddenly his hand leaves my pants and I'm mourning the coming orgasm being ripped from me. Grisha slides his hands up my legs, before yanking my leggings down my legs, along with my underwear.

I scowl. "Should've done that before you–"

I don't see him lean forward and dip his head between my shaking legs and thrust his tongue into my pussy. I clutch both of the arms rests, arching my back moaning and feeling him lick me. The position we're in– my body angled upwards with him raising my legs over his shoulders, makes it even more intense.